Of the survivors and the winners
by eightfifty
Summary: The BAU has a new member. She's strange, but hey, so are the rest of us. What will the team think of her? I am terrible at summaries, but I try. Read if you'd like, I know some people don't like the whole new member idea.


One in the morning found her playing air guitar to Harvester of Sorrow. Three in the morning, Iron man. Finally, four found her sleeping, though fitfully. Four thirty, though, caught her making coffee. Six thirty sent her a text from a colleague, telling her there was a case.

She was almost glad, she didn't know what she'd do with herself until eight if there wasn't one, but she also knew a case meant bodies. Bodies meant victims and victims meant an unsub. There went her imaginary weekend plans!

Growing up, she never wanted to be a movie star or a pop singer like other girls. She never wanted to wear lipstick. She wanted to read and solve problems and help people. So she became a federal agent. Sure, she could have done any number of things with her skill set. She could have been a professor, a doctor, a musician even. But she joined the bureau. She wasn't even entirely sure why. She didn't seem like the typical agent; she hated suits, could barely shoot, she was thin as a twig. Hell, they'd had to make 'special acceptions' just so she could be on a team. And here she was, on her way to join her team for the first time, and on her way to her first case ever.

She was a little nervous, to say the least.

* * *

Six forty five sat her in a chair around a round table, waiting for others. Seven brought the last member to the table.

"Team," Hotch, the only one she'd met before, gathered everyone's attention. "This is Melanie Provost, she'll be working with us on cases from now on."

They seemed surprised. Either they hadn't known she would be there, or they had and she was completely different than they expected. In all honesty, it was the latter.

"Oh, sweetie, did you sleep at all last night?" a kind, and strangely dressed blonde woman asked her.

The question caught her off guard, leaving her wide eyed and looking around the room for an answer.

"Uhm, yes, ma'am, I did," she swallowed.

A few of the people sitting around the table chuckled slightly, looking at her like she was eight years old. She felt like she was eight years old.

"This is Penelope Garcia, our technical analyst," Hotch explained.

He pointed to each of them and gave their names, each of them giving her some form of 'nice to meet you' or a nod.

When that was through, Hotch sat back down and another blonde woman began explaining the case. Four young girls found dead of blunt force trauma to the head in Kansas. Each were found with a piece of paper stuck in their throats. It was sick, sure, but she'd read worse. Everyone else, though, seemed rather surprised she'd taken it so well, what with it being her first case and all.

* * *

On the jet, which she was still amazed that they had, they discussed the case. They being the rest of the team. Melanie listened in, not giving anything, but weighing each theory by fact and probability in her head and nodding slightly when she agreed with something.

"Melanie, would you like to say anything?"

She looked up wide eyed, not having expected to be called upon. "I- uhm, no sir."

"Kid, if you've got something to say," Morgan ordered, "then say it."

"Yeah, o- okay. Well I was thinking, since they weren't abducted, they were hit in the back of the head, so he had to come from behind. It's the same with each victim, there's no evolution. Either he doesn't want them to see him, or he's scared," she looked up at the rest of the team, searching for some sign of approval.

"It's most likely the first," Reid agreed. "He probably has a child their age, or knew them well."

She let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Looking back down at her feet, she thanked every deity she knew that she hadn't made a complete fool of herself.

"Don't be afraid to share your theories with us, we're a team, okay?"

"Yes sir," she mumbled.

There was a collective sigh from the eldest members of the BAU.

"You sound like Reid," Morgan commented.

"I- I don't understand. That's a good thing, right?" she said, head tilted slightly in confusion.

Spencer Reid seemed a wonderful person to be like. She didn't see how they could possibly be alike, but she took it as a compliment nonetheless.

Soon, everyone was off doing their own thing; Reid and Gideon playing chess, Emily and JJ talking, Hotch and Morgan smiling while secretly watching her play air guitar to Free Bird. Morgan disguised his watching by listening to music. She had her headphones on and her eyes shut tightly as she strummed on her invisible instrument.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter is short, I just wanted to get it started. I'm also really sorry the writing isn't too perfect.**

**Side note, I rhymed in this chapter. Review with the rhyme and I'll be your bestest friend.**


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